


Prince and Knight

by Aithilin



Series: Halloween Week 2019 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Royals as Vampires, Slice of Life, Vampires, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 16:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx had been warned away from the royal lines for as long as he could remember. But at some point, the Lucian Prince became just Noctis.





	Prince and Knight

“To be honest,” Nyx started, surveying the damage done in the bathroom mirror. It was minimal, as always. But the smear of red, the stain of blood against his skin still needed to be cleaned up properly before it transferred on to a pillow or blanket. He hated trying to get blood out of his laundry on the best of days. He emerged from the bathroom and the light was shut off with a resounding, final click of the light switch; “I’m not sure what I expected, little star.”

The apartment was plunged back to its natural state. Noctis was lounging like a happy cat on his bed, tucked away into its shadowed niche. His lips were a little more red than usual, his cheeks flushed, his pupils blown wide as he watched Nyx move around the small apartment in the dark. Nyx had once been told that it was a predatory gaze; that those eyes would hold a clever, cold, calculating view of him as prey and nothing more. That the flush in the Prince’s cheek, the thrill of those eyes tracking him, the absent lick of bruised red lips were all things to be feared. To set him on edge, and keep him alert so he doesn’t find himself enthralled by the creature. 

He didn’t bother to turn the light on in the kitchen as he found the familiar weight of the kettle and searched out the box of mixed teas. He knew his apartment, and he knew that the sudden flare of unnecessary light would do more harm than good when they were already both adjusted to the night grey lights of a city outside. 

“Everyone told me that you were dangerous,” Nyx held up what he thought was the correct packet, squinting against the muddled night grey to try to read it. To be sure 

“It’s orange pekoe, hero,” Noctis warned him from the bed. “And how am I supposed to be dangerous?”

He set the packet back and tried again, seeing the delicate curl of the blend he wanted in the dark. He set the box aside and shook the packet out of habit before tearing it open and setting the teabag in the first mug his hand found by the sink. The shapes were becoming more defined now as he adjusted again to the dark; the shadows shrinking back from the lights filtered in between his heavy blinds, from the light of his kettle’s base as he clicked it on. The Solheim-red light glaring from his counter was a reassurance in the dark, even as he turned to find Noctis, still lounging in his bed. 

“You know,” he offered a vague gesture meant to take in all of what Noctis was. The Prince stretched out, less like the coeurl everyone tried to compare the creature to, and more like a contented house cat; “fangs, blood drinking, sacrifice. All of that daemon stuff.”

“Daemon?”

The amused mockery of indignation made Nyx smile. “What else would you say you are?”

“I’m thinking I took too much this time. Don’t have the tea first. Don’t you have… I don’t know, juice? A cookie?” The bed creaked and Noctis got up; Nyx watched him move in the shadow, blanket wrapped around him like a cloak. “Iggy always has juice afterwards. Pretty sure Gladio stashes sandwiches around.”

“Don’t talk about how others do it, little star. You’ll make me self-conscious.”

A snort of suppressed laughter and Noctis is padding through the cold morning grey to battle the harsh glare of the fridge as he searches for food for Nyx. “You still do it best. Very satisfying.”

“Stroking my ego will get you nowhere.”

“But it’s just so big.”

“Okay, it might get you somewhere.”

“I meant your ego, hero.”

“I know, I’m choosing to ignore that. Get the leftovers from dinner. That was red meat right?”

Nyx had been warned away from Noctis from the beginning. He was a prince— The Prince— and he was meant for someone else. Some other creature in another part of the world. He was meant to ease some ancient feud, rivalry, something that kept these creatures dancing around each other for centuries in stagnated wars. Nyx had thought it meant it was dangerous for him— he would lose blood regularly to keep the Prince satisfied, just a little at a time, just enough to flush those pallid checks and tease life into those clever eyes. That he would be a sacrificial lamb being led to slaughter if one of these royals took an interest in him. 

It would be dangerous if one of these royal enthralled him. 

He never understood the term. The warning. The hazard of it. 

Fridge-cold strips of steak in a plastic container was pressed to his hands. 

“Eat this,” Noctis said.

Nyx sniffed it first, and picked a piece of the meat with his fingers to test it cold. The whole thing was moved to the microwave as he chewed absently on the overcooked strip plucked from the container. “I should keep cookies for this stuff.”

He had been warned away from Noctis for ages, since he was an impressionable youth looking to scrape out a living among the famed Kingsglaive of Lucis. Since he was selected from his hometown from training by the imposing, legendary forerunners of the unit, searching for their replacements. His mentor had warned him away. Warned him of sharp fans that would flash like silver in the dead of night; of torn throats and weakened blood. He was told of the nature of the creatures he was recruited to protect, to serve, to stand by and sacrifice his life for— cold, aloof, ancient creatures with blood in their eyes and on their lips, needing to sap and syphon off the life of others to sustain the magic burning through their veins. 

He imagined them like the stalking beats of the Galahd canyons and forests, of the dark shadows that moved beneath the waves of his beloved island shores. He thought of them as still and quiet as the stone statues that had flanked the ancient Citadel doors he was ushered through; enshrined and entombed in the hallowed marble halls of the Lucian Citadel. 

But then Noctis had smiled to him as he clutched a new video game close, eyes alight with excitement as he answered ‘what do you have there’ with a stream of explanation and lore and details that had all gone well over Nyx’s head. But then Noctis had stood with him one night as it crawled by with a dull guard duty— watching the rain beyond the Citadel windows as its made the city shine and gleam beneath the hidden stars— and asked him about Galahd. 

But then the Crown Prince— the fabled deadly creature of nightmares and stories— had just become Noctis. 

They had talked fishing first. Talked (one sided, Nyx would happily admit) about video games and comics and books. Of life in the city, the Citadel, Galahd, centuries ago as Noctis blurted out a disdain for fashion trends of decades gone by when he absolutely refused to step near the Halls of History. 

Dinners and lunches came later, Noctis picking around his shared meals with a shy smile and stammering conversation. 

Nyx had decided that he enjoyed breakfast more. 

He was told that there was a betrothed somewhere in another kingdom for the Prince. The equally immortal guardian of the Oracle living among the canopy of Tenebrae. That he was playing with fire carrying on as he was. 

The Lucian Prince was not the dangerous one. 

Nyx decided it didn’t matter anyway. Noctis seemed to have made his choice. 

“At least juice,” Noctis said, still wrapped in the worn blanket plucked from the narrow bed. “Normal people stuff.”

“Are you accusing me of being normal?”

The grin that answered him was all the encouragement he needed. Nyx moved to kiss Noctis in the dark, let his hands slip beneath the warm blanket to the flushed flesh beneath. Noctis let his shield be pulled away, lifted himself up to be braced against the counter as Nyx moved them both with their matching grins and eager hands. 

Nyx had been told that he was walking a fine edge. That the Prince was playing with him. That the Lucians were cold and callous, no matter how much warmth Nyx called to the surface with the right touch, the right movement. The right kiss. 

He was told he was enthralled. But Noctis seemed to follow him like a puppy, his chosen friends— selected through the years to stay by his side, hardly the thralls of legends. They all had a will of their own, their own lives, their own identity beyond the desperate loneliness of the Prince who had stolen them from time itself. Gladio the first Shield who had served the royal family since they first defied the Astrals and natural order; Ignis the ancient adviser who had understood the steady march of time was cyclical in nature; and Prompto, the friend, the faithful, sunny companion. Even the youngest, Nyx knew, was older than him by a century. All of them lifted to the Prince’s side just as he needed them. 

Just as he begged them like he begged Nyx now.

“Please,” Noctis mouthed against his throat; “please…”

“Please what, kitten?” 

Nyx lived in the moment. He saw the world without the shackles of past wrongs or old stories. He saw the world narrowed down to the creature in his arms, revitalized by tiny offering of blood Nyx sacrificed. Kept from being the cold, stony creature everyone told stories of with a few drops of Galahdian blood.

“Stay with me.”

“Noct,” and Noctis rolled his hips, pleading for contact, for connection, for Nyx to hurry up and get inside him already. The ages could stretch out around them later. But the promise tumbled between them anyway, tugged loose from where Nyx had tried to cage it with excuses and apologies, and memories of a childhood spent searching the forests for dangerous creatures. “Yes.”

His sister would say it was romantic, he knew. She would tell his stories to her children, and children’s children— the romantic tale she already crowed over about the immortal Prince and his beloved knight. He knew he would have a new purpose to look after her family for her, just as that distant king in Noctis’ fate guarded his Oracle family line. His Captain will say he’s an idiot, but that was an everyday occurrence now. 

The King would say…

Nyx didn’t know what King Regis would say. The man indulged Noctis his whims with a mischievous smile. 

Noctis smiled at him in the dark, the microwave shattering the peace of the apartment between them, the kettle clicking off with its rolling boil at a peak. And neither of them moved, until Noctis kissed him and whined and encouraged him to finish what they had started. “Stay with me, hero.”

“Always,” Nyx answered, obeyed, indulged in Noctis’ demands; “my little king.” 

The promise was made. Nyx would stay.


End file.
